


Ma jo

by wanderingsmith



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: It'd actually turned out to be a good year.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> eh. My jo (scots pronunciation phonetics make it ma jo) = My dear = Mon cher   
> ;) the little things that amuse.

There was a town party below, but much to Billy's surprise, Goody had thanked the proprietor for the offer to attend, and instead bought a bottle of what he called 'actual' whisky; for enough money that Billy's brows had almost flown up in surprise.

He had to admit, sipping it slowly as Goody had insisted, that it was a hell of a lot smoother than anything he'd ever tasted. Worth every penny as the two of them sat in shirtsleeves on one of the beds in their room, staring out the window, open to the warm night; his back to Goody's chest as Goody sat against the wall. 

Goody'd been off and on explaining the traditions of the holiday being celebrated, pausing every so often when the music was louder than the people; and so, worth listening to.

"So you do this every year?"

The room below seemed to quiet as a slow song started to be played on the piano, and rather than answer, the hand Goody had on his chest stroked up to fiddle open enough buttons to slide in and come to rest over his heart. Voices started to sing, though not clear enough for Billy to decipher, and Goody finally answered softly, "I ain't never been grateful before."

"Never?" Goody was no younger than he was; 'never' seemed a long time to not take part in such a widely held tradition. Though it belatedly occurred to him that he couldn't remember having ever tried to follow any of his own people's traditions since his parents had died.

Goody shrugged, shifting Billy's head with the movement, "When I was a boy, I didn't know enough to be grateful for another year of peace and plenty. And then it was war..." Billy covered the hand on his chest, squeezing the fingers gently; he didn't need Goody to drag himself into details. He felt a touch to the top of his head, suspecting a kiss.

The people below started to cheer, odd popping sounds erupting, though they didn't seem to be making Goody tense. "But now," the hand on his chest tugged free and came up to tilt Billy's head until their eyes met, "I am ever so grateful, mon cher. I'd like nothing better than to celebrate the coming of every new year with you."


End file.
